


Come Morning Light

by Shadsie



Series: National Anthem 'Verse [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Audience Reactions, Death, Drama, Fire-Forged Friendships, Gen, Grief, Heroism, Hope, Loved Ones Waiting at Home, Side Stories, Tragedy, Violence, Waiting for Daybreak, Waiting for Loved Ones To Come home, Weird Hunger Games Crossover, Weird Smash Bros. Crossover, Worry, fusion fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadsie/pseuds/Shadsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some, the terror started with the flicker of a television set.   It was a colorful agony under lights and cheery music, giving way to the forced tragedy of a given year's deadly Brawl arena.  As those forced into fights struggle to survive for the sake of saving their respective universes, the people who care for them at home go through their own kind of pain as they watch, waiting for "dawn."     </p><p>A side-story series to National Anthem.</p><p>Chapters and Character-focus:</p><p>1 - The Interviews (Everyone)<br/>2 - Hunger and Games (Mario and Luigi)<br/>3 - Hang Your Heroes High (Link and Colin)<br/>4 - Undesired Crowns (Pit and Lady Palutena)<br/>5- Cannibal Games (Kirby)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Interviews

**Author's Note:**

> _**Disclaimer and Notes:** The Smash Brothers universe and most of the characters belong to Nintendo. Guest fighters belong to their respective companies. Concepts specifically related to The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins. _
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> _This is to be yet another story-series to the National Anthem universe – a fan fiction world I created as a fusion-fic between Super Smash Bros. and The Hunger Games. So far, the series consists of the original National Anthem and a side story series detailing events around specific characters titled A Gathering of Sacrifices. This side-series is primarily about the pomp and circumstance and the audience / characters watching from home. As always, I “write what I know” and “who I know.” Some characters are, unfortunately going to be glossed-over due to my not knowing them well enough to write them effectively. Reading the original National Anthem story-proper is required to understand this, being that this is a continuance. It takes place under specific circumstances and in a specific timeline that is an alternate universe of Brawl / between Melee and Brawl._

 

 

**Come Morning Light**

_“Don’t you dare look out your window_

_Darlin’, everything’s on fire_

_The war outside our door keeps raging on_

_Hold on to this lullaby, even when music’s gone.  Gone._

_Just close your eyes._

_The sun is going down._

_You’ll be alright; no one can hurt you now._

_Come morning light you and I’ll be safe and sound.” ___ Safe and Sound, Songs from District 12 and Beyond, Taylor Swift

 

 

 

**Story 1:  The Interviews**

 

For some, the terror started with the flicker of a television set.  Every aspect of the Brawls of Honor was mandatory viewing for the people of the disparate and desperate worlds of Ninten.  For a great many, particularly those in Smash City, it was entertaining viewing.  For those watching their friends, family and heroes – doomed to fight and so many doomed to die, it was agony. 

 

It was a colorful agony under lights and makeup and cheery music. 

 

 

The host for the “Getting to Know the Fighters” broadcast was a slimy little man from New Hyrule (though some suspected he was actually from the long lost Termina), Tingle Purlo.  He had a certain jauntiness to him, something childlike about him that was disarming.  The way he had of making the fighters he interviewed highly uncomfortable greatly amused much of the Smash City crowd.  Some said that he was more evil than Ganondorf, but lacked his power (and that it was precisely why the sorcerer had spared him from the fate that had befallen the rest of Termina).  

 

The chubby little man in green tights and glaring red outer-underwear ascended the interview stage upon a red balloon.  He deflated it, sat in a chair and greeted the audience both in the Smash City studio and at home with his usual smarmy smile.  He shuffled cards in his hands and chose to bring out (since these interviews had no particular order) the single fighter from a newly subjugated world. 

 

“Our first guest is Pit Icarus of Skyworld!  Everyone give him a koo-lim-pah!’ 

 

The young boy in the white toga and sandals was highly confused.  He sat down in the chair opposite the strange little man and tried to make his wings comfortable. He made a little wave for the crowd. 

 

“Oooh!” Tingle cooed, “Such magnificent wings! Do you mind showing them off, Mr. Icarus?”

 

“Uh…I…” Pit struggled, “My name is Pit.  Please call me Pit.” 

 

“You got it.”  The little man made a gesture with his hand indicating that he wanted Pit to get up and to show off for the studio audience.  Pit stood up and turned his back to them, flaring out his wings to various gasps and sounds of awe. 

 

“You may sit back down now.  I can’t say we’ve ever had an angel on my stage before.” He smiled a drunken uncle smile.  “You are very pretty.” 

 

Pit wrinkled his nose at this.  “I’m not pretty!” he protested.  I’m manly.  I am a warrior!” 

 

“You don’t say.  Now, we have heard that you are a military captain, is that correct?” 

 

“Yes, Mr. Purlo…”

 

“Call me Tingle.”

 

“Tingle.  I serve the Goddess Palutena – the Goddess of Light! I’m the Captain of the Guard.” 

 

“You do look awfully young, my pretty little angel.” 

 

“Stop calling me that!”

 

“What, pray tell?”

 

“Pretty!” 

 

Tingle shared a hearty laugh with the studio crowd. 

 

“Don’t underestimate me!” Pit said, standing up.  “Lady Palutena trusts me.  I’ve faced countless dangers!  I’ve fought my way out of the bowels of the Underworld!”  Pit then paused. “Wait a minute, did I just say ‘bowels?’  Ew.  Anyway, I will do anything to get back to her! I will return to Skyworld victorious!” 

 

The angel pumped a fist in the air, eliciting a roar of enthusiasm from the audience. 

 

“How do you feel about the… rules… of the Brawl?”  Tingle asked him, leaning forward as he sat back down in his stage-chair.  “You really do seem like such a good boy.” 

 

Pit’s eyes grew sad.  “I don’t like them,” he said honestly.  “But, I will survive any way I can.” 

 

“Do you have any special skills that will help you do that, Mr. Pit?” 

 

“I’m an archer,” Pit said seriously.  He did not wish to give away all of his secrets. “And, of course, there’s this.” 

 

Pit called up the flight-blessing that his goddess had given his wings in lieu of her being able to be there.  He did not wish to let on that it had a limited range.  It was good to let the audience and those waiting for their own interviews to think that he had a greater ability than he did.  That way, his fellow fighters would be looking up rather than down when seeking him out for a kill.  They might also operate under the fear that he could swoop down on them at any time.  The generally kind-hearted angel couldn’t help but smile slightly at this, immediately feeling slimy for doing so.  He launched into the air until he was perching on some of the studio-light fixtures. 

 

Everyone was clapping.  Tingle looked on curiously. 

 

“Oh, you cannot stay up there forever,” Tingle teased.  “I have more interviews to do.”   

 

“Coming down.”  Pit tried to acrobat his way down, only to slip up and fall right into the interview-chair, shedding a small explosion of feathers upon landing hard. 

 

“Mr. Icarus?” 

 

“I’m okay,” Pit assured, getting up.  He flashed his wings for the audience one last time before exiting the stage. 

 

In the darkness beyond the stage, he breathed a sigh of relief and nervously looked back at the clapping crowd. 

 

He did not know that, in his home, his goddess was sitting beside her scrying pool, using it as a television set.  She was weakened by her chains and biting her fingernails until her fingertips bled. 

 

“A good performance,” she sighed.  “Keep them guessing, Pit.” 

 

She tried to keep her sight upon her captain as the music swelled for the next introduction. 

 

Lady Palutena lost Pit in the shadow of the stage.

 

“Alright! Alright!”  Tingle said.  “Our next fighter trades in the angel’s wings for the devil’s horns!  The fiery terror of the Mushroom Kingdom, let’s give it up for King Bowser Koopa!” 

 

The stage thundered as the large turtle-dragon ascended the stage.  He snorted smoke and destroyed the chair when he sat down. 

 

“Oh, my, such a big fellow,” Tingle said in surprise.  “So, we hear that you are the King of the Koopas?”

 

“I will be the true ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom!” Bowser thundered, “And I shall have Princess Peach to rule at my side!” 

 

“Yes, she is a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

 

“Careful where you step, obnoxious little man!” 

 

“Isn’t it true that you are family man?  Will you be fighting extra hard to get back to your children?” 

 

“Those useless brats?  Oh, sure.  But I really want to impress the princess. They’d better be keeping my armies on their toes!  I’m bringing home Mama!” 

 

“Perhaps you should tell us of your skills?”

 

Bowser responded by roaring and pounding his chest.  He slashed the air with his claws and sent a jet of flame into the air with his breath, stopping it just short of it catching anything flammable.

 

“Ooooh! Impressive!”    

 

“I have no fear!” the dragon growled.  “Heroes hold no candle to me! Trained monsters are hopeless!  Swords and laser-blasts will only break against my impenetrable scales!  I shall pluck angels from the sky with my mighty claws!” 

 

The studio audience was in a frenzy.  The previous interviewee cringed in his seat in the dark part of the studio.  Miss Peach sat next to him and tried to make him feel better by rubbing a wing. 

 

Somewhere in the Mushroom Kingdom, a gaggle of Koopalings was hooting and shouting, eager for the coming bloodletting. 

 

 

Other guests were brought out after the stage crew cleaned up the broken chair and brought out a replacement. 

 

The small black knight with dark wings and a mask was noncommittal.  He grunted and asked for things to move along.  The blue-haired man with the massive sword spoke of his skills as a mercenary in his home-universe and when asked if there was anything he liked about Smash City, he replied “the food” and talked of roast Hyrulean cuccoo as being the greatest discovery about the shared nexus of worlds.

 

When it came to the two Pokemon that were to compete, a young female trainer was brought out to speak about them.  That segment of the Fighters’ Interviews became, temporarily, a nature-segment with a “zookeeper” explaining the natures of creatures. 

 

Donkey Kong and Diddy Kong knew enough sign-language to communicate without help.  The audience cheered when the larger primate beat his chest in a classic alpha-male fashion.  Diddy swung from the light fixtures by his tail, doing his best to appear cute and charming. 

 

Cranky Kong, watching from their hotel suite in lieu of coming to the interview, well, he threw something unspeakable at the screen. 

 

Tingle couldn’t stop sneezing when Mr. Fox McCloud took the stage. 

 

“I’m sorry, I am… allergic to dogs.”

 

Fox scowled and corrected him as to his species.  The rest of the interview had him as stoic and polite.  He rolled up a pant-leg and showed off a prosthetic only after he was pressed. 

 

“Falco will get me through this,” he said before exiting. 

 

Tingle continued to sneeze when Link D’Ordon took the stage.

 

“I know someone like you back home,” Link sneered.  “He was a swindler.  Now that I think about it, I do wish he were in the arena with me so that I could tear his throat out.”

 

“Achhooo! Acchoo!  Such a dark sentiment.” 

 

“I am a dark hero,” Link replied.  “I am part wolf, after all.” 

 

“Did you change into one just before you got here?”

 

“Why yes, how did you know?”

 

“Choo!” 

 

Link laughed and Tingle squeaked.  He found himself with a small knife to his throat.  Sheik was standing behind his chair, pressing one of her many small weapons to him.

 

“You do know that it is unseemly to kill your interview host, don’t you?  Lord Ganondorf shall have you both killed! You will not even get your fight!”   

 

Sheik took the knife away from Tingle’s neck and used it to pop the budding balloon that was forming on his back.  “You are unworthy prey,” the Sheikah said as she retreated.  

 

“It is true,” Link added. 

 

“That ASIDE,” Tingle said, brushing himself off, “since time is rupees, I’ll be brief.  You are one of the favorites to win, being that you have a multitude of skills, Mr. Hero.  In fact, I, myself, do hope to see it come down to you and the nice, muscley guy with the big sword or perhaps the fierce armored lady. However, do you think that your being a hero will hinder you?” 

 

“Not at all,” Link D’Ordon said with a sinister smile.  “When I fought the Twilight Invasion, I learned that I had to do what it took to survive.  I had to – quite literally, I might add – throw off my humanity and become a beast.  That beast has caught a scent of blood. This time, I am not holding him back.” 

 

“Very well and good, Mr. D’Ordon. There is a rumor of love in your life, and that it has changed you.”

 

“My mentor,” Link responded.  “Midna.”

 

“If you win this, you have a chance to be with her, perhaps, at least in mentoring future Brawls together.  Will this aid your survival?”  Tingle craned his neck forward and winked at the audience.  “This will make him more inclined to be a killer, no?” 

 

“The beast in me already has the scent of blood,” Link laughed.  “A life with my Twilight Princess is a fine prize, but since I’ve arrived for this little game, I’ve decided that I’m in it to win.”    

 

“I’m sure it will be a spectacular Brawl,” Tingle left off with.  “Link of Ordon, everybody!” 

 

As the crowd roared, another crowd was gathered before a drawn sheet in one of Ordon Village’s pumpkin-fields.  The sheet served to screen the projection that served as “television” in Old Hyrule. 

 

“Link,” moaned Rusl, his mentor and friend.  His son sat next to him on a picnic-table bench.  The mayor of the town, Bo, sat next to the distraught man. 

 

“He’s okay,” the boy, Colin offered.  “Look at how the crowd is responding to him!”

 

“But what he’s saying,” the father groaned.  “It’s like he’s lost his heart.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” mumbled Bo.  “I am sure that he is using the art of deception on the enemy.”

 

“He’s just playin’ pretend!” Colin said. 

 

“Yeah,” Rusl said, brightening up.  “He’s still our Link.  He has to be.  He’s still my boy.”

 

Tingle attempted to secure a proper interview with Sheik, but the shadow-warrior kept slinking and hiding around the studio.  When he brought Samus upon the stage, he was most disappointed. 

 

“I thought that you are coming out in your famous Zero Suit, Lady Aran.” 

 

He squeaked when he got a canon in his face.  “Although, the Varia Suit is perhaps more famous and quite impressive in its own right.” 

 

Tingle had her show off her gear, after which he coaxed precious little information about her life out of her.  He – and the crowd – learned something about the destruction of planets and a “duty to wipe out dangerous species.”   

 

Some talk came up of the previous non-lethal tournaments of the days before Ganondorf’s reign.  By the end of it, the studio-audience was shouting “Genocide Samus! Genocide Samus!  Genocide Samus!” and she exited with grace, the roar after her. 

 

“Our last guest is our youngest fighter, Link Outsetter!” Tingle shouted.  “Come on out, darling boy!” 

 

Little Link came out with scowl firmly planted upon his face.

 

“Oh, my, what a sweet little thing!  Are you, by chance, a forest fairy?”

 

“Huh?” Link asked. 

 

“You have green clothes and the classic fairy-child look! We could be brothers!”

 

“No, we couldn’t,” Link groused. 

 

Tingle was looking him up and down uncomfortably. 

 

Somewhere, in a house on Outset Island, upon a magical portal that served as the television, a small girl gripped her grandmother’s wrinkled hand.  The old woman sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. 

 

“I was supposed to protect you,” she whispered.  “I’m your grandma… I was supposed to take care of you.” 

 

“Don’t let that bad man touch you!” Ayrll shouted at the screen.  She then turned to her grandmother.  “Hey, wasn’t he that guy that used to be in jail on Windfall Island?  I heard they were keeping him for something terrible.” 

 

“I do think you’re right, dear,” Grandma said.  “I have seen a wanted poster.  That dratted Ganondorf would choose such a villain to torment our boy and all those poor other people for the cameras!”

 

Link did not know what to say with his host eying him as if he were food.  “What… what am I supposed to say, Mr. Tingle?”

 

“Hmmm.  Not as much of a pretty, lighthearted fairy boy as I thought…  You volunteered.  You are like the angel.  You are both very brave, you know that?”

 

“Not really,” Little Link said, swinging his legs over the chair.  “I just did what a big brother is supposed to do.  She’s too young for this.”

 

“Too young?  And you are not, child?” 

 

“Well, I am, too.  We all are.  Even the adults!  Even the people who are really seven-hundred years old!” 

 

Link stood up and looked at the audience.  “Can’t you people see how wrong this is?  You want to watch me die and I haven’t even lived yet!  You want to take angels from the sky!  A father away from his children!  Warriors away from the universes they are sworn to protect!  You’ve made men into beasts!  You do this year after year just because Ganondorf commands it?”

 

A shout of “Shut up, Tiny!” sounded from the place that his mentor, Toki, was sitting.

 

Little Link calmed down and sat down.  “I’m sorry,” he said, his head hanging.  “Yes, all I had on my mind was protecting my sister, that’s it.” 

 

“The odds are not in your favor, sweet fairy-boy,” Tingle said.  “I am afraid that is the honest truth.  I could create a life insurance policy for your loved ones if you have the rupees.”

 

“No thank you.  I’m going to survive as long as I can. I have my sister and my grandma to get back to.  I have to try.” 

 

“Do you have much in the way of skills?” 

 

“I am a swordsman and, if it’s needed, an expert sailor and fisherman.  My home is an island.” 

 

The last interviewee was dismissed with claps.  The crowd actually did like him – for his courage.

 

“Tiny” found Toki and they headed back to their quarters as the pomp and circumstance wrapped up.  The national anthem of Ninten echoed in the sound stage behind them.  They passed by other fighters. 

 

For a moment, the younger Link locked eyes with the eyes of the weary angel.  Pit gave him a look like a deer caught in headlights before going back to his suite.  The instant they shared between them told them that they were two of a kind:  They were each here because they had someone they had desperately wanted to protect. 

 

It almost made this exercise in parading in front of the cameras and the world worthwhile.  It also meant that coming face to face again when in the arena was going to be the most painful thing Link expected to ever experience. 

 

And, later, it indeed would become one of Link’s Outsetter’s most painful experiences in life, just not in the way that he'd expected. 

 

 

 

**End First Story.**

 

_A quick thanks to 23Blenders for giving me the idea of having Tingle as my universe’s Ceasar Flickerman._


	2. Hunger and Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A younger brother sees an older brother off to the Brawls - first as a victim, then as a mentor to other victims. Food is a tie that binds their spirits, even as they are in separate worlds. 
> 
> Like many things in life, Luigi's story begins and ends with pizza.

**Come Morning Light**

**Story 2: Hunger and Games**

It began and ended, like many things do, with pizza.  Luigi lifted a square slice with bubbly crust, laden with dripping white cheese, crushed tomatoes, garlic and pesto sauce to his lips.  He ate slowly, watching the ending ceremonies.  His brother’s charge – their old adversary – had fallen.  It was the little New Hyrule kid who’d prevailed.  Mr. Luigi Mario could not help but feel a pang of jealousy for the boy’s courage.  He was wearing a set of golden laurels – the crown that had belonged to his dead ally in the Brawl.  That was insane.  The kid could get killed for doing something so defiant right there, on camera at the post-interview and victory-ceremony.  Victorious fighters were not meant to mourn their allies in public.  In fact, it was customary to act – for Ganondorf – almost as if they’d never existed. 

 

Oil glistened on the pizza as the light from the television danced over it.  It was like staring at sparkles on a small cheesy ocean.  Luigi always ordered this kind of pizza to eat while watching the closing ceremonies of the Brawls of Honor.  It had become a tradition ever since he had seen his brother off to his Brawl with pizza. He remembered when the two of them sat watching in disbelief as the very first of these spectacles was aired.  Luigi was living now, as then, in a small house in the grasslands of the Mushroom Kingdom.  It was a cozy place not unlike the little house that Mario had lived in during his “Seven Stars” adventure.  Mario had said that he’d since met up with an old friend from back then, someone who’d returned and was running a restaurant in Smash City – and that someone was a surprisingly good chef for someone with a mouth and limbs of polished wood. 

 

The first of Ganondorf’s games had come as a matter of desperate fear.  Luigi had made his brother and himself a big lunch of pasta during the first run.  They’d barely picked at it.  None of the beings chosen from their kingdom that year had exactly been their friends – just random enemy minions – but even they didn’t deserve what they got.  Princess Peach, of course, was no help.  She’d gone into full service to Ganondorf.  This was probably why random mooks had been chosen for that first Brawl, the brothers decided. Perhaps that was the plan all along.  If the royalty of this land served the evil overlord, he’d grant them an easy way.  It was pretty clear, after all, given the selected contestants from Hyrule, that Ganondorf was bent upon destroying his enemies, so it made sense not to make the kingdom hostile if it was not necessary. 

 

At least, that’s what Luigi’s cowardly gut told him.  His family was safe and so were his friends – that was all he knew.  It was better to let actual heroes decide things, ultimately. 

 

He remembered picking at a plate of creamy tortellini alfredo with thick white button mushrooms when Young Link was declared the winner.  Mario was mourning over the loss of the elder Link, who had been a very good friend.  Luigi rubbed his brother’s back and tried to soothe him.  “His spirit will a’ live on in the young one,” he’d said. 

 

It had – perhaps a little too much.  The boy had won by chance and by tragedy.  Enraged and full of heroic resolve, the kid did the stupid thing and tried to mount a rebellion.  Most who’d joined were the people of Hyrule, but some followers came in from other worlds.  Mario had joined, of course, much to Luigi’s protests.  The younger brother did not see the course of action as wise, since no one knew how Ganondorf had gained the devastating power that held the lands in his sway.  Luigi did not join his brother in the fight.  He regretted it every day since.  Princess Peach, whenever he was able to see her, told him not to regret what he’d decided, that “it made her job easier,” whatever that meant.  It came as a surprise to the younger brother that Mario had escaped being executed for treason when the fight fell through.  Then again, Link had been allowed to remain alive, which was even more surprising. 

 

The Brawl that happened after that time provided the answer.  Link was forced to train the people of his world for the Brawl – and ultimately to watch them fail.  Mario was chosen for the Brawl, himself – and just about every attempt at death those in charge of the environment could throw at him was sent his way.

 

The day that Mario was to go into Smash City was a day Luigi treated him to lunch consisting of his favorite pizza (surprisingly, without mushrooms) – the large, flat, square-shaped, as-big-as-an-average-television-set monster of a pie with simple toppings piled atop the glistening, gooey mozzarella on a yeasty, garlicy crust.  Luigi remembered eating well of it, even as he felt sick.  He knew that his brother wanted some moments of happiness before going into a situation he might never return from.  That pizza had been pure bliss – but more so, sharing it with someone he loved. 

 

Days were spent seated before the telecast, picking at this or that.  Steak with onion and shi-take, every forkful dripping with beefy sauce, ramen with forest-mushrooms and carefully-tended broth, penne with pink sauce, sun dried tomatoes, button mushrooms and chicken…some of it was made at home, other dishes picked up at local eateries… The feasts devolved with the progress of the Brawl into canned ravioli with utilitarian twice-boiled tomato sauce and barely mushroom-flavored ramen from a dry packet.  Luigi had started out every day eating some of his and his brother’s favorite foods as a little way to honor him.  As things came down to the wire, hope of his homecoming grew in the younger brother’s heart, but the stress built to the point where he’d stopped enjoying food enough to care about its quality. 

 

Luigi was sitting in the easy chair in a filthy version of his favorite green fuzzy cat-hoodie pajamas slurping tentative spoonfuls of soggy cereal when the last spat of blood hit his brother’s boots.  He dropped the bowl in surprise – not that he ever got the hang of the paws on the pjs, anyway – and just stared at the screen. 

 

He’d won.  Mario had won!  He as going to come home! 

 

However, the elder brother was alive, but not whole.  Luigi didn’t bring up the things that Mario had to do to survive that he’d seen on-camera.  Mostly, it was a kind of minion-stomping and fireball-fighting turned nasty.  It wasn’t pretty when things that were not the re-spawning minions or the tantrum-filled, but tough as iron Koopas from their world could actually die and stayed dead.  Mario hadn’t personally killed the fighter that had been chosen from New Hyrule that year, keeping him in good graces with Link (whom he told Luigi was going by “Toki”).  For his part, Mario refrained from telling Luigi about the things he’d had to do that the cameras didn’t catch.  Forgetting the whole mess was a mutually-agreed upon arrangement.

 

Until, of course, Mario had to go play mentor alongside Toki.  Luigi personally cooked him a feast to cheer him up prior to his ride to Smash City.  He even tried a cake, though it wasn’t quite as good as what Peach could make. 

Yeah, they’d pretty much disowned her at this point.  Only the most hopelessly loyal or clueless of Toads considered her their princess any longer.  To tell the truth, both of the Brothers Mario and Captain Toad, her personal retainer, decided that she had betrayed them.  Sure, the captain was used to a certain amount of abuse, but her willing assistance to Ganondorf in their subjugation and the annual horror show was beyond the pale.    

 

Every year was the same – Mario worried that Luigi would be chosen and assured him that he wouldn’t because he was the “second banana” (perhaps the only time Luigi was glad to be such).  After that, Mario would be off to Smash City to deal with another fighter or two chosen to kill and die. Strangely enough, much to their surprise, no one who was particularly close to them was chosen throughout the years, but it was still hard on Mario. 

 

Luigi would spend every afternoon and evening glued to the telecast, hoping the chosen victim from their world would pull through, or at least that one of the other people from one of the other worlds the two of them knew and liked would make it.  Every day, Luigi would procure take-out or spend part of the day in the kitchen cooking to obtain some favorite food that he and his brother shared – something different every day – to share in spirit with him.  Luigi wondered, if through the trails and training sessions a Champion went through, if Mario took the time out to symbolically share some favorite food with him in the City. 

 

Luigi was sure that this was the case after his brother told him about _Geno’s._

 

Whenever he could pull himself away from the less-important parts of the Brawl, Luigi would collect mushrooms around the kingdom and other ingredients. 

 

He’d eat even as he winced at the bloodshed.  Luigi tended to keep a bucket with him by the easy chair in case some horrible scene caused him to lose the lunch he’d shared in spirit with his brother far away.   The only year he couldn’t eat anything at all was the year Kirby won.  It was hard to get an appetite back after seeing him in action.   

 

As Luigi watched Link Outsetter on the screen, he knew that something was about to happen.  He could feel it in the hairs of his mustache.  It wasn’t just the courage of the crown; there was something that sparked through the very air. 

 

Maybe it was just that the camera panned to the Champions and there was a light in Toki’s eyes that Luigi hadn’t seen in years on-screen.  Maybe it was the knowing glint in his brother’s big blue not-so-innocent-anymore eyes. 

 

He got a mysterious phone call the next morning. 

 

“Meet me at a’ the remains of the old castle in World 1 if you are a’ brave.  If you a’ don’t, I’m sorry, but I shall be delayed in coming home.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Luigi found the unmistakable silhouette of Mario out where he said he would be.  They embraced.  “So glad you could a’ come, brother,” Mario said.  “What’s about to happen I’m not at a’ liberty to say.  You may stay here or you may come with me.  You don’t have to a’ fight, but I’d worry less if you a’ stay.”    

 

Luigi shivered.  He saw a big black thing shadow the moon.  It was coming toward them.  It looked like an enormous airship, but it wasn’t Bowser’s.   

 

“What is that?” Luigi asked. 

 

“It carries our hope,” Mario answered.  “The times they are a’ changing.”

 

“There’s going to be a fight? You mean… like before?” 

 

“This will be a final fight, dear brother.”

 

“If you a’ want me to stay low… why have you brought me here?” Luigi asked.

 

“I… I a’ wanted to say goodbye.” 

 

Luigi sniffled.  He put his hand over Mario’s and placed something wrapped in a handkerchief in it.  Mario unwrapped it. He smiled. 

 

“It’s cold, but it will do.”

 

It was, of course, the last slice of pizza. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  _I couldn’t remember whether or not Luigi was a part, in any way, of the final assault chapters of “National Anthem”-proper. I just went over them and didn’t see him. I think I was under the assumption when I was writing then that he had stayed home. However, that’s not to say that he didn’t wind up on the Halberd as moral support or in the fight but unmentioned. Whether or not the Cowardly Lion was brave enough to join Mario is up to you. I also issue apologies if character-personalities are off-canon in any way. I haven’t played all of the Super Mario Bros. games and the ones I’ve played, with the exception of “Legend of the Seven Stars” didn’t give the characters much personality at all._   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _The kind of pizza in this story, by the way: Go to your local decent Italian place and ask for a “Grandpop’s” or a “Grandma’s.” Sometimes it’s on menu, sometimes it is an off-menu thing. Enjoy the bliss. You’re welcome._  
> **
> 
>  
> 
> ****  
> _Considering that I got a Wii-U and Smash for Christmas, I am either going to be whipping these chapters out lickity-split due to fresh inspiration or I’ll be lingering because I’ll be gaming. In the meantime, Happy New Year.  
> _  
> 


	3. Hang Your Heroes High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ordon Village watches as their dear Link goes from hero to beast. Colin, however, never gives up hope or faith in his "big brother."

**Come Morning Light**

**Story 3: Hang Your Heroes High**

The fireflies danced before the large, stretched screen, acting as cinema-lights for a summer film beneath the shade of the trees.  The Mayor of Ordon Village had a small magical screen that people could watch in his home during the day, but for the most part, the village gathered during the evening mandatory viewing times of the Brawl around the communal screen. 

 

For Link, however, members of the village gathered at all hours, at any spare moment. Fado the rancher was reduced to eating all his meals right at the ranch and closing up as early as possible.  Milk went unmade into cheese, though it had a habit of curdling itself into a mess.  Butter went un-churned. Thankfully, for the pumpkin fields, the gourds were not quite ready for harvest during this month and so could be left to grow.

 

It was young Colin who was the most rapt by the proceedings of the Brawl of Honor for which their world’s Hero had been selected.  Even after everyone else in the village had gone to bed, he would sneak out of his family’s home to “check on Link.”  His mother and father were not sleeping well.  He slept the least of all and his father would gently scold him in the morning when he found the boy sleeping in the mud before the outdoor screen. 

 

Link’s hometown had learned a secret about Link – in the interviews and the training montages.  He had the power to become a beast.  Colin had long suspected that the wolf he’d seen around their village and around Kakariko during the Twilight Invasion had been his adopted big brother.  Now he had confirmation.  The youngest members of the village received this well. The adults, not so much.  Rusl and Uli came to terms with it quickly – and Rusl was remorseful.  He’d hurt Link once in that form, unaware…

 

The entire village watched as the cameras showed their Hero and his ally wandering through the first days. It was hard to believe that this spectacle was going on not very far away from them, in their own world.  An old and long-forgotten stretch of the Faron Woods had been chosen for this year’s battle-arena.  There was a powerful force-field surrounding it.  The area where this was taking place was blocked off and forbidden.  If it were merely a matter of monsters and Ganondorf’s other thugs, the stronger folk of Ordon Village would have stormed the place and hacked away at the dome.  As it was, it was a secret location, well-hidden, and a large portion of the woods had been flooded with poison miasma.  

 

“By the looks of those ruins,” Rusl said as he and all of Ordon watched the screen, “I’d say that’s out by the old temple.” 

 

“The Forest Temple?” Jaggle asked. 

 

“No,” Rusl answered.  “Beyond that…. By their designs, I’d say they look like they’d be a part of a very ancient temple way out in the deep woods.  Shad, Ashei and I studied it… when Shad…was… still alive.”  

 

Rusl strung his sword on his hip.  “It’ll be a challenge, but I know how to get there.”

 

“Stop!” Uli ordered.  She grabbed him by the arm.

 

“Wife, leave me be! I’m going to get our boy back!”

 

Mayor Bo stood in his way.  “We do not know if what we are seeing is really our forest,” he said.  “It may be one of Ganondorf’s illusions.” 

 

“Besides,” Hanch said, “Ain’t no getting’ through that force-field. You’ll be fried like your lady’s cuccoo-dinners!” 

 

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Colin piped up.  “Link’s got a plan, I know it!”

 

“I’m just so worried,” Rusl said, sitting down heavily on a bench.  “I also don’t know what this is doing to him… the way he’s acting.” 

 

While there was one broadcast going on in Smash City of the Brawl of Honor, quite often, modified broadcasts would be sent out to all of the different worlds of the “Nation of Ninten,” at least in the first days.  These were tailored to the various regions – showing them what the ubiquitous cameras picked up of their fighters, the people they were interested in.  Old Hyrule’s broadcasts had been heavy with Link and Sheik and tended to turn away to other fighters only when they were doing boring things, such as setting up camp or gathering food.  The village of Ordon saw Link’s beast-eyes, both in him as a man and as a wolf. 

 

They’d also overheard conversations between him and Sheik regarding efficient killing-methods. There was some discussion in the village regarding Link’s eventual win versus worries over his honor.  They knew he was a battle-veteran, having slain many monsters during the Twilight Invasion.  The consensus among the adults was that dealing with some of the Brawl’s fighters would be little different.  However, there was the matter of more innocent – or at least more innocent-seeming - fighters.  

 

The Ordonians rather liked the winged-boy.  Montages of him in the training hall, broadcast before the arena-drops portrayed him as a capable fighter, but his interview and some snatches of conversation that had been picked up portrayed him as rather sweet-natured.  At least Colin’s mother thought so.  Angels were not traditional to Hylian mythology, but there were several creatures like them in function – the fabled Oocca, faeries and nature-spirits.  The villagers felt some worry over the idea of a messenger of the divine being put in danger of being killed and what kind of retribution or curses Link could incur if he were the one that did the deed.  To murder a sacred creature went against everything the legendary Hylian Hero’s Line was supposed to do and supposed to be. 

 

Colin was particularly drawn to Link Outsetter, the carrier of the Hero’s Line from the alternate version of Hyrule.  Outsetter was about his age.  His parents both thought they looked a lot alike.  Colin was not as naturally-bold as the boy.  The kid was everything he wanted to be and he thought that the two of them could become best friends if they ever met.  Colin ached for him and his big-brother Link to meet up and to form an alliance.  Could they bust out of this nightmare and take on Ganondorf together?  Was he planning on doing something that would break everyone out of the arena?  Was he going to destroy the thing? The child could only imagine and could only hope.

 

Even with those beast-eyes and talk of death, Colin had faith that Link was up to something, for there was something in those eyes that betrayed a cunning beast.

 

Besides, Link would always be his hero.

 

Ordon Village was treated to full-coverage of Link and Sheik’s battle with the Pokemon, Charizard.  The entire village actually cheered when Link felled the beast.  It wasn’t that they were cruel, or truly enjoyed seeing the death of one of Smash City’s prisoners; it was that Charizard, to them, was merely a dragon.  There were good dragons as well as evil dragons in Hyrule’s mythology and history, but the Charizard struck the villagers as a destructive creature, the kind of thing that Link would have to kill to save them should it have been near their settlement.  Uli turned away and hid her little daughter’s eyes.  Rusl nudged Bo in the side with his elbow and commented on “his boy’s” sword-technique.  The dangerous animal went down quickly and cleanly.  Even Colin was grateful for that.  Link’s way was exactly how one was to deal with a monster. 

 

Mostly, everyone was overjoyed that Link and his ally had come out of the fight.  Old Hyrule kept its pride and their Hero was alive and well. 

 

 

 

 

For a while, the cameras concentrated upon other fighters. There was only so much of “Link turns into a wolf and goes hunting” that even the Old Hyrule based broadcast was willing to show.  To be fair, it was that way for most of the other fighters, as well – people concentrated upon the bare business of survival.  Some of them got scares with various arena-dangers. 

 

The day Sheik encountered a group of aggressive Deku Babas, including Serpent Babas, was a bit of excitement.  Colin, of course, felt his heart swell with pride as he watched Link save his ally from them. 

 

“You see, Dad?” he said, pointing at the screen as he sat next to a plump pumpkin, “Link’s okay.  He’s still himself.” 

 

“Yeah,” Rusl said as he ruffled his son’s hair. “I really shouldn’t doubt him.  He’s acting aggressive for the cameras, but he’s acting as himself.  I just wonder… what is he up to?”

 

“He’ll do something spectacular,” Colin assured.  “Just you watch.” 

 

 

Of course, the boy was right, but not in the way that he meant or ever wanted to be. 

 

The fight with Samus Aran occurred in the night.  A few of the villagers were awake to see it, including Colin.  His mother was home with his little sister.  His father was with him as was Ilia.  Like Colin, she held out hope in Link’s basic goodness, though she had the fears the rest of the village was expressing. 

 

Colin was yawning and rubbing his eyes.  “We should get you to bed,” Ilia said.

 

Colin shook his head. “A few more minutes.  Link is on the move.” 

 

Indeed, the cameras were following Link and Sheik.  They also switched to a view of the woman in the strange armor in her camp.  Everyone present at the screen in Ordon – that is, Colin, Rusl, Ilia and Hanch gasped.  The armored-warrior shot at Link and he barely dodged as Sheik wrapped a chain around her neck.  Momentarily, Link had his sword at the warrior’s throat, aiming right for where the helmet joined it – or so it seemed.  That woman’s armor was decidedly alien.  No one in Ordon had seen anything like it and they did not know if it worked at all like the suits of armor they knew.  Then again, Rusl, their blacksmith, was quick to say that every suit of armor had its weaknesses. 

 

The ambush was rather distressing.  Two against one was unfair – then again, the lady warrior had been portrayed as a decidedly dangerous individual.  The way she’d shot at Link had erased the sympathies of most watching.  Colin was at full attention as his father clenched his hands, saying “Come on, Link!” 

 

That was when Sheik took out the camera.  First there was static, then darkness.  After that, the sharp prolonged tone of the “technical difficulties” screen plastered with the twice-slashed circle that was the logotype for Smash City appeared for several minutes. 

 

“What happened?” Colin asked, getting up and looking around.  Ilia hugged him. She had the same question.  Everyone did.  Pergie came yawning out of her home, as did Mayor Bo upon hearing the commotion and confusion.  Uli came out with Colin’s baby sister on her arm. 

 

The screen sprung back to life.  At first, everyone that had seen what happened gasped in relief.  Colin watched his father scowl as the audio cut in to reveal Link laughing and bragging cruelly about his kill as he held up the armored woman’s helmet. 

 

“There’s something wrong,” Ilia said.

 

Rusl grunted.  “She went down too easily,” he observed.  “I expected a greater fight from that one.” 

 

Colin was confused.  Had his Hero just killed an actual human?  Why was he bragging so? 

 

Rusl patted his son’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it is the way it has to be,” he sighed.  “Sometimes a knight of Hyrule does not only deal with monsters, but with men.”

 

“She did shoot first,” Colin said.

 

“That, she did,” his father replied.  “But something is fishy about it all.  We saw the training videos with her.  There was something not right about that fight.  I think she took a fall.”

 

“Does this mean that there’s some plan going on?” Colin asked hopefully, “Like, a way to get at Ganondorf?”

 

“It is possible,” Rusl said.  “Then again, it is also possible that the armored lady had seen too many battles in her life and decided to escape by putting blood on our Hero’s hands.” 

 

Colin shook his head.  He didn’t like seeing his father say such grim things.

 

“I can’t help but think that Shad would know what was going on right away.  I miss him every day.” 

 

“I know, Dad,” Colin said, hugging his father’s legs.  “I miss Link already. I want him to come home.”

 

“Me, too, son, me, too.”

 

 

 

 

The day that Ordon lost faith in their Hero was the day a wolf tore an angel from the sky and set his fangs toward a young islander. 

 

Everyone in the village was watching, save for Fado, who was out taking care of the needs of the goats.  Bo was distracted temporarily in keeping an escaped goat from getting away.  The old Mayor wasn’t as good at goat-catching as Link, but, when pressed, he could apply his knowledge of Sumo wrestling to the task. 

 

The cameras were mostly following the alliance of Link Outsetter and Pit Icarus at the time, anyway.  The two had proven a rather amusing and heartwarming pair, with talk of family, legends and food.  The two provided a much-needed optimism that leveled out the grim nature of the Brawl of Honor.  There was always a fighter or two that naturally fell into this kind of role every year since these horrible spectacles had been going on and it was always particularly tragic to lose them.  As such, the cameras tended to linger long upon their deaths. 

 

Colin’s mother sighed as she watched the “sacred creature” stretch his wings against the sun.  Ilia stared long at him, as well.  Colin didn’t really know what was so special about him, other than his being a “divine spirit” as his father had mentioned. 

 

“He’s just so… pretty!” Ilia had explained.  “He’s not as wonderful as a horse, but those wings, so white…Oh; they’d look so good on Epona!” 

 

“He’s like a little bird,” his mother mentioned.  “Just… cute.  I wish he wasn’t involved in this.” 

 

That was the moment a wolf burst out of the bushes, jaws bared right for the angel.  Ordon Village collectively gasped as both Link and Pit went down behind the rocks the winged boy had been standing on.      

 

Link Outsetter sprang into action, throwing rocks at the wolf.  He soon had a ball of snarling fury to deal with. 

 

That is when Colin’s heart tore in two.  He stood shock still, staring at the screen in utter conflict.  What was Link doing?  Why wasn’t he transforming back and offering an alliance?  He did not want Link to die, but he didn’t want the other Link to die, either.  Cold pain shot through Colin’s young bones. 

 

Given Outsetter’s age and build, it was like Link was attacking him.  Would Link ever do that to him?  Link was doing that right in front of him. 

 

For a moment, Colin felt the hot breath of a wolf upon his neck. 

 

The wolf yelped and fled.  Outsetter held up a twitching tail.  After that, instead of following Link, the cameras chose to linger upon a broken angel and the care that Outsetter tried to give to him.  The screams of pain and the crying and the shots of the severed wing were too much for most of the village.  Beth hid her face and wept.  Talo – “tough Talo” – threw up in the stream, letting the local fish share his breakfast. 

 

Rusl moaned.  “He’s gone mad,” he said.  “He’s turned into a feral beast!”

 

Uli hugged him tightly.  Colin just stared, his eyes not leaving the screen, despite the blood and weeping. 

 

“He attacked… he attacked kids,” Bo said, thunderstruck.

 

“He attacked… me…” Colin said dully. 

 

 

 

 

For the first time, the people of Ordon Village started to root _against_ their “hero.”   There was some footage that evening of Link getting his rear-end cauterized by Sheik and everyone thought that he deserved the pain.  Rusl was hoping the agony might shock his boy’s mind back to his humanity. 

 

“Well, the Brawls do change people,” Bo intoned.  “They get into a situation where they do anything to survive.  Perhaps our poor Link has lost all hope.”

 

“He attacked children!” Rusl lamented.  “Link… my Link… he’d never do that!”

 

“Dad!” Colin protested, “Maybe… maybe he had a reason! I mean… Maybe he’s still got a plan going on…and…. And… he felt like he had to! Maybe he wants to keep them from having to kill!” 

 

Rusl looked at his son with a hard gaze. “I… I can’t trust him around you anymore.”

 

“But Dad!” 

 

Rusl sat down on the bench and shook.  “You don’t understand, son.  When I saw him attacking little Link Outsetter there… I couldn’t see anything but him attacking you.”

 

“I felt the same way, but…He’s Link! We have to have faith in him!” 

 

“His mind’s been warped. Maybe it was that Midna woman… or that Sheik… or the environment of the Brawl itself.”  The blacksmith slumped his shoulders.  “Colin… I’m afraid that your big brother is dead.” 

 

“Dead? But he’s right there! On the screen! He’s still alive!” 

 

“The Link we knew, Colin.  The Link we knew… he’s dead.” 

 

The cameras switching to Outsetter and the angel caught everyone’s attention.  Surprisingly, the angel was still alive.  He was, as to be expected, in a lot of pain. 

 

“He’s not gonna survive,” Fado declared.  He was watching at this point too.  “I’ve seen it all time an’ time again.  Goats an’ horses dun survive broken legs.”

 

Outsetter was scratched up. Aside from roiling emotions, he was, for the time being, alright, although hatless. 

 

Colin hugged his mother close and cried.

 

 

 

 

Very late that night, Colin snuck outside of the house to watch the field-screen.  He couldn’t help but wonder about Link, even after the spectacular betrayal of his usual morality.        

 

He found that camera was upon Link and that, like him, Link was awake.  He was in human form and he’d gotten up from his camp without disturbing his partner.  Perhaps he could not sleep due to the pain in his bum?   

 

Link leaned against a tree and started singing, of all things.  It was an old song that Ordon knew, although it was said that it had come across from other worlds, from places “beyond the walls.”    

 

_“Are you, are you_

_Comin’ to the tree?_

_Where they strung up a man_

_They say who murdered three?_

_Strange things did happen here,_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met at mid-night_

_In the hanging tree.”_

 

 

Link had emphasized the “murdered three” part of the lyrics.  Was this, Colin wondered, due to his having three kills under his belt?  He’d killed Charizard.  He’d killed the armored woman.  Young Mr. Icarus was still alive, but probably not for long with the limb-ripping Link had given him. 

 

The lyrics were soft and sad and they were not proud.  Colin saw something in Link’s eyes.  Tears.  His big brother was crying?  He sang more of the song and didn’t seem to know the camera was watching him.  When the song came back around to “murdered three,” there was the emphasis again. 

 

Did Link feel guilty?  Did he think he deserved to be hung? 

 

“Link…” Colin whispered at the screen, knowing that he was unheard.

 

The sad scene in the middle of the night gave Colin just a little hope.  Link had to have been up to something big.  He wasn’t “dead.”   

 

 

 

 

In the following days, most of Ordon Village cheered on little Link Outsetter.  It was not expected that he would win this thing, but they saw how faithfully he cared for his wounded ally.  His sense of honor almost made him a “replacement son” for their own native madman.  However, it was only a superficial sense.  Link was still Ordon’s boy.  Sane or mad, they all wanted him to come back home more than anything. 

 

Bo did express the sentiment unspoken by others:  That it might be better for him to die than to come home realizing what he had done.  Fado seemed to think that it wouldn’t be such a bad fate for him if he were killed in wolf-form, for Fado seemed to make a distinction between the animal and Link, himself, expressing that he believed Link to have a spilt-personality.  Fado did not think that “Link” had attempted to kill the younger Hero, but that “the wolf” had. 

 

“Link is still Link!” Colin yelped.  “I saw him cry!  I did! I really did!” 

 

“He’s caught up in survival,” his father sighed.  “At this point, he must only care about himself.” 

 

“I think he’s still planning something!” Colin said.  Beth stuck her tongue out at him. 

 

“Link’s gone,” little Malo said.  “My market doesn’t sell anything that can help with wolf-brain.” 

 

Colin huddled close to Rusl. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but… I don’t think Link is gone.” 

 

Rusl put an arm around him and held him close.   

 

Everyone in Ordon saw a bit of the old Link come through as the camera lingered upon him coming upon the torn body of Sheik.  The children caught some of the village cuccoos and they all had cuccoo-dinner that night. 

 

Colin was watching alone as dawn approached when the Wolfos pack happened upon Link.  The screen split suddenly, with one side of it showing the horde of Wolfos chasing Link through down the forest’s game-trails.  The other side of the screen showed little Link Outsetter putting a sword through the head of the great turtle-dragon, Bowser, from the Mushroom Kingdom.  Colin could barely believe what he was seeing.  He’d begun training with swords.  Suddenly, they were scary again. 

 

Other villagers began awakening and coming out to watch what Colin was staring at.  “Stuff’s happening,” he said, his face aghast and his eyes hollow.  He pointed to one side of the screen.  “Link is there…” 

 

“You know what your mother and I said about staying up all night,” Rusl weakly chastised. Colin knew, however, that he understood. 

 

The screen slid back to one as the broadcast showed the remaining Brawl-fighters.  A green-clad little boy and a very sick angel stood upon an island of stone as it was surrounded by howling monsters.  Link, as a wolf, retreated with whines and growls from a strange and beautiful golden creature.  He cringed against the rocks, making no move for the youths above him. 

 

The Wolfos dove in.  Colin felt his father’s hand clap over his eyes.  He struggled and fought and grabbed it off.  “I have to see!” he screamed.  “Link! Come on!  You can come out of this! Fight back!  Link! Fight back!” 

 

He could hear Beth crying.  Ilia held her. 

 

Everyone watched – it seemed like it was slow-motion to the entire village, even though the broadcast pace was in real time.  The one-winged angel drew back an arrow of light and shot into the mass of fur and fang.  When they parted, Link was a man again, but still, his eyes staring skyward, blank, yet sad. 

 

“No….no….”  Colin whispered. 

 

“It’s alright, little man… it’s gonna be alright.”  Rusl knelt down to hug his boy.  Colin knew that it was not alright.  All of their hopes had vanished in that moment. 

 

It seemed that everyone felt the same.  Everyone in the village who was awake was holding each other and weeping.  Even Rusl… and Colin had always known his father to be stoic and in control of his emotions. 

 

No one was watching the screen in Ordon when the final fighter fell and Link Outsetter was announced as the winner.  No one resented him winning.  No one blamed his ally for performing a mercy-kill. 

 

As the victory music played, the entirety of Ordon Village was very quiet. 

 

“What do we do now?” Colin weakly asked.  His father gently shook his head. 

 

“I don’t care what happened,” his father choked.  “I’m going to make sure he gets a Hylian Knight’s honors.” 

 

Colin looked up to Ilia, the “big sister” in the absence of his “big brother.” 

 

“I…” she said dully. “I have to wash and curry off Epona.”  She cast her gaze to the ground.  “Link is coming home.” 


	4. Undesired Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the temple in Skyworld, Palutena watches her most faithful servant's experience in the Smash City's "Brawl of Honor." She is unable to extract her dear Pit, heal him or even give him words of encouragement. 
> 
> Never has the goddess felt so powerless.

**Come Morning Light**

**Story 4: Undesired Crowns**

Never before had the goddess felt so powerless.

 

The Lady Palutena, the Goddess of Light and Wisdom, had been imprisoned by gods and forces equal to or greater than herself before, but she had always counted upon something – or someone, more accurately, very special to help her to set things right. 

 

Things were definitely not right.  She sat before her scrying-pool, which served as her window upon the other world, fitted by the magic of that world to serve as her “television.”  Palutena wore manacles of dark magic that she had thus far failed to be able to remove.  Spectral chains flowed from them whenever she moved, disappearing when she remained still.  The shackles drained her energy, leaving her weak.  Accordingly, the light around her temple in Skyworld and over the land below was dimmed – not by clouds shrouding the sun, but by a diminishing of the quality of Light itself.   The goddess’ guard – an army of brawny centurions that could carry themselves by white wings in their helms – were allowed to be at her beck and call.  They knew, with great shame, that they could not fight the evil that had overtaken their land and had chained their goddess.  Her power could not support them while she was detained like this. 

 

And, of course, the Guard Captain, a higher kind of angel, was no longer with them. 

 

Pit had always been a good and faithful servant – Palutena’s best.  Exceptionally talented at fighting demons and monsters and exceptionally brave, he had been able, in times past, to save her when the power of her divinity failed.  Theirs was a unique relationship.  He worshipped her and from her perspective, he had always been meant to be an employee, created to be a servant-creature, yet what he had become over the eons was something more like a son to her. 

 

When he had volunteered, of sorts, to fight in her stead in her captor’s wicked bloodsport and had been taken away from her to do just that, she had been left utterly bereft in heart.  She didn’t watch the events broadcast through the pool merely as the god of one world curiously watching what was going on in another – she was united with every mother that was watching their children forced to fight.  It was a curiously mortal sensation.  Palutena didn’t like it at all.  As someone who’d watched over a world from ancient ages, she knew what grief was, but had not been personally acquainted with it in the way that she was now.    

 

“Keep them guessing, Pit,” she said to the pool, knowing that he could not hear her.  He was dazzling at that interview – just utterly charming.  This was one of Pit’s superpowers.  It did not work on monsters or in battling the most wicked of opposing gods, but it worked on most others.  Pit had a way of turning people who wanted to kill him into allies just by being sweet – sometimes.  Palutena knew that, audience applause aside; he was still in grave danger. 

 

Her boy was in a world where she could not simply extract him from the danger and heal him.  She had brought him back from near-death time and time again and had even captured his soul before it fled when he had technically died from wounds suffered in heavy battle, but there was no way for her to do that for him while he was in the other world.  The two of them were cut-off and Pit was no longer under her divine protection.  She did not know what would become of his sweet soul if one of the other fighters prevailed against him or if he was taken by one of the landscape-hazards.  By virtue of his species, he was strong – much stronger than he looked to the others, certainly, but not invincible, and there was a certain fragility in his wings.  Pit’s wings held and channeled the greater part of his life-force.  Minor injury to them, or even breaking, was nothing he could not recover from, but if they were burnt down or otherwise destroyed, she could not bring him back even if he was able to access the usual miracles from her. 

 

This was why the Power of Flight was so dangerous.  It was a gamble between it cutting off and his falling in a way that would crush his wings and body beyond repair or the wings burning off – a crueler death than a fall should it ever happen.  The Power of Flight was given to the small angel in a less powerful form with a shortened duration for these games he’d found himself in, one that did not carry the danger.  Pit was being wise in the interview-show, making it look like he was not handicapped and was not making use of a severely limited blessing.  His poor, small wings _looked_ like they would carry him and _looked_ like they were not magically crippled.  This would, Palutena hoped, make him intimidating and keep the flightless fighters always watching the sky, hunting for him in the wrong place. 

 

It was when he got back to his room on the night of the interview that she started weeping in earnest.  Pit had been doing this all throughout his stay in Smash City, with her watching.  When he was in a quiet place, he’d fall to his knees and cry out to her.  His prayers were not unheard, but they could not be answered.  She could not speak to him through his golden laurel-crown like she could in their own world. 

 

“Pit! Pit! I’m here! I hear you!  I am watching you! Please, feel something of it?” 

 

He continued to cry out and to shake with sobs.  They had never been out of contact with each other – not for his entire life.  No matter how far away he was from their sky-island home, she was not only watching over him, but she was the “voice in his head.”  Watching Pit call and then whisper before cleaning himself up and finding something to eat was watching someone too innocent for it suddenly losing everything he’d ever had faith in. 

 

Pit clearly still had faith in her - it just came without direct contact. It was devastating for him.  Palutena formed a fist and pounded it on the edge of the pool, causing ripples to form in the water.     

 

Palutena could see the experience of being mortal set into the young angel’s eyes.

 

The evening when all of the fighters were made to do a presentation was a little better.  Pit was dressed in a golden toga and his wings glittered.  The goddess smiled as he used the limited miracle she’d given him to fly around and to charm the audience.  From what she’d learned, this was a way to encourage them to send him things to help him. 

 

The day the Brawl of Honor began, however, saw Pit in misery.  Palutena knew that he did not want to be finished there… in that strange place.  Furthermore, he even less wanted to kill anyone.  The boy was a slayer of monsters but a protector of mortals.  Though he could not know because their contact had been severed, his goddess watched him as he wandered the forest in Old Hyrule, cordoned off by an energy-field. 

 

Palutena had some thoughts for a few of the other fighters, too.  She suspected that the fierce hero native to the land they were all in as up to something.  As cruel as his words were in the interview and as hard as his manner, she could see a sorrow in his gaze.  His big blue eyes were hero’s eyes, intelligent and calculating.  His ninja-partner’s red eyes were cold despite their fiery color and betrayed nothing.  The woman in high-tech armor also struck Palutena as being more than met the eye… that despite her nickname including “Genocide.”  To Palutena, she looked like she did not want to do any unnecessary killing.  She struck the goddess as “efficient” in the way she carried herself.   She hoped her boy would not run into Bowser, whom she deemed as being like their captor, Ganondorf, but far less sophisticated. 

 

“Stay safe, Pit,” she said in unheard encouragement.  She was pleased to see how wary he was, how ready for action at a moment’s notice, although he was spending his time trying to avoid the others. 

 

Pit paused at a pool.  Clearly, he saw just what she saw from her unique vantage point.  His reflection was strange.  It was as if there was some residual magic in the waters that Ganondorf had tried to kill.  The mirror image looked like Pit, but darker.  The wings were curiously black and the eyes were curiously red.  Pit stroked his cheek and his hair.  He twitched his wings, watching the reflection do the same.    

 

He moved on, seeming to conclude that he was watching a trick of the light – although it was not of Palutena’s light.  Palutena had a persistent feeling about that reflection – like the light and waters of Hyrule had revealed a part of Pit that was hidden and would come out into the light someday.  The look in the reflection’s eyes was fierce – but Palutena thought that it was the look of someone that wanted Pit to survive by any means necessary.  Perhaps the pool had shown Pit his inner grit?

 

Her watch was tireless.  As a goddess, Palutena did not need to sleep.  It was like food – she had no need for eating, but ate for pleasure and to gauge the taste and nutrition content of meals for her warriors.  Sleep was similar in that she had no physical need for it, but sometimes bedded down in order to open her mind to dreams and visions.  She should have known that this situation was coming.  She’d had a dream about a dark cloud covering her land and a golden object, far out of reach.  A wounded, limping wolf that swayed drunkenly stood before a huge boar with giant tusks within the darkness of the cloud. The wolf growled in defiance of the pig’s saliva-drenched squeal.  Just because she was a goddess of wisdom did not mean that she understood what all of her dreams meant right away, however. 

 

She dozed a little bit by the scrying pool without willing it, for her chains sapped her energy before snapping out of it. She silently vowed that when she got out this, she would be even kinder to the mortals under her patronage.  If this is what they felt like every day… the poor things. 

 

Poor Pit… he, too, required sleep.  She watched him curl up in tree branches.  He slumbered lightly at first, attune to every sound.  Eventually, try as he might, he’d drool and emit soft little snores, deep in dream in submission to his exhaustion.  She wanted so badly to drape a blanket over him as she watched him shiver with his wings against his body tight. 

 

The days of the Brawl seemed endless.  Fights and deaths happened.  Palutena thought it was all pretty senseless.  Then again, it wasn’t as though things such as this did not occur in her world.  Some of the human cities had constructed coliseums for battle, pitting strong warriors against one another or against animals or monsters for the glory of kings and entertainment of the crowds.  Palutena hadn’t before paid much attention to what humans did.  She was their patron, but that only meant that she cared about shedding light upon their lands, inspiring minds open to her calling and keeping them protected from the monsters of the Underworld.  Otherwise, she did not interfere with them.  They had their wars and whatever games they saw fit, blood and bile upon the sand and all.  

 

Her indifference to their battle arenas was starting to fade as she watched Ganondorf’s games.  She decided that if the mortals craved games of battle, she had to find a way to make them happen without death – Perhaps she would invite the best of warriors of her surface-world to one of her arenas, where her guards trained without permanently killing each other, just to give them a better form of entertainment.      

 

She paced around her temple before coming back to the scrying pool one of the afternoons of the first week to find that Pit had found a friend. 

 

“Little guys should stick together.” 

 

The younger Link… Outsetter.  Palutena had liked him from the beginning, but chose not to become attached.  He had a special energy, but she was sure she’d see his life taken by one of the arena-dangers or by one of the meaner fighters. 

 

Despite his frailty, there was no one she was happier to see Pit ally with.  They were just… compatible.  Both were an interesting combination of innocent and brave. 

 

“Oh, Pit…” Palutena sighed.  “It’s going to break your heart to lose him, isn’t it?  At least you can give him some kindness in his last days.” 

 

She fully planned to do a lot of counseling of her angel after this was over.  If Pit was very lucky, he could hide out until the crueler fighters had killed each other off.  Still… there was “Tiny” now.  Palutena had been paying attention to what Outsetter’s mentor had been calling him.  What would take Tiny? Certainly, Pit wouldn’t.  He’d probably just watch something sad happen to the kid. 

 

The goddess was not looking forward to having to counsel her angel.

 

For the first time in many days, the Goddess Palutena laughed out loud.  Her centurions rushed to her to ask her what was wrong.  She pointed to the scrying pool and showed them their guard-captain wearing a long Hyrulean hat.  Pit and Tiny were exchanging hats.   They had been talking about food earlier, the subject turning to pie and to Pit’s rude eating habits. 

 

After switching hats, the boys discovered plates of pie randomly left for them.  Palutena smiled.  Her dear Pit’s charm had won them that.  She laughed some more at the belching contest they had.  It was crude, but adorable. 

 

Palutena had wanted Pit to make some friends.  It was nice for him to have one during this ordeal.  However, it was also tragic… why did he have to meet this darling boy in the Brawl? 

 

“Pit will come home,” she said to herself, her heart doubting just a little, shot through with fear.  “Pit will come home and we will rally our forces and President Ganondorf is going down!  It will be just like with Medusa, Pit.  Just get through this.” 

 

The action was white-knuckled the following day. 

 

Pit was on watch.  A wolf burst out of the bushes – it was the elder Link in his animal-form.  Palutena ceased to care about the secrets she saw in the light of his eyes right then and there.  The wolf came for Pit, grabbed a wing and they both went down.  Palutena cried out and shook the temple with the sound of her spectral chains rattling.  She stood by the scrying pool, practically dancing as she gesticulated and called out and acted as though she wanted to dive right through the thing and rescue her boy. 

 

In hindsight, she was pretty sure she’d tried to use extraction-light on him, her muscle-memory forgetting that he was in another world. 

 

Tiny fought off the wolf with great courage, dealing him an amputation of the tail.  The little hero immediately went to Pit to help him in whatever way he could.  Palutena heard him praying upon a token and immediately knew what was really going on: He’d smuggled in a communication device and was speaking to his mentor, Toki. 

 

Pity the laurels did not work that way. They’d been found out, perhaps, and forcibly cut off.  Perhaps that was the problem with them.    

 

Pit was in bad shape.  He was crying in confusing and pain, blood all down his back and side.  Little Link severed the last thread that his left wing was hanging by and put pressure on the wound. 

 

This wasn’t good at all.  While Tiny got the bleeding under control, Pit had still lost half his life-force in one fell swoop.  He wasn’t going to heal well.

 

Not to mention the guilty echo in Palutena’s mind, Pit’s voice, expressing his dreams:

 

_“My one wish… would be to fly on my own!”_

 

“Oh, Pit!” the goddess wept.  She watched as Little Link got him into the dry, warm cave they’d been trying to defend.  They’d found blankets given to them as mysteriously as the earlier pie.  Palutena’s heart swelled with a love for Link Outsetter.  He’d not left his ally to die even in a game where there could be only one survivor.  He was doing all he could to take care of her Pit.  He pressed the wound closed and spoke words of comfort.  He watched, as she did, as Pit succumbed to sleep. 

 

She watched as Tiny left.  Her pool was keyed to focus on Pit, but she was able to exercise a small amount of will over it.  She watched as Tiny went gathering and lucked out in hunting. She didn’t watch much of what else happened to him and he found the white chicken, keying the pool to show her Pit again.  He slept deeply and she worried.  He’d lost so much blood and life.  She did not see anything happen to his soul, but she yelped when she thought she saw a Reaper’s scythe in the shadows of the cavern.  Pit shifted his legs in his sleep and she was relieved. 

 

Outsetter returned with a cleaned, dressed bird and set it up for roasting over a tiny campfire.  When Pit woke up, they ate, Link offering more to the wounded angel to help him recover – as well as he could from a torn-off wing.  Palutena quickly checked their area over and found that the Wolf Link was not around, nor were there any other dangers, not that she could have warned them. 

 

“Oh, Pit, do you really think I would do that to you?  Gross!” – He had worried, for a moment that Little Link had seen fit to roast his amputated wing, all because some of her jokes about his wings.  She remembered that he was woozy and might be having trouble remembering what was said in seriousness and what was just her joking and trolling him to get a reaction.

 

She smiled when she saw him brighten, talking about her.  She and Little Link also seemed to be forming a plan – to both survive and to get out of the Brawl together.  Palutena did not know if their plan would work, but it was nice to see Pit enthusiastic about something.  She dabbed at her eyes with a divine handkerchief.  He had faith in her to heal him and to restore his wing.  She did know of a special spring down in the Underworld by the way-station for the dead that could help him.  It was a dangerous journey there, however, and technically, would involve her violating the rules of the gods and of nature. 

 

She would definitely do that for him.

 

The following days were agony.  Bereft of half of a life-force, for the first time in his immortal life, Pit had become vulnerable to mortal disease.  The wound where he’d lost his wing, despite being carefully bandaged as much as possible by Link Outsetter, had developed a severe infection.  By how sick Pit got so quickly, it was clear that the sickness was deep in his flesh and already in his blood. 

 

Little Link Outsetter prepared medicine for Pit to help ease his aches.  They continued to tell each other stories and to watch out for each other.  Palutena moaned when she heard Pit telling Link that he was sure that if he died, that she would “raise up another guard-captain.”  He was right in assessing that she wouldn’t like it and would cry. 

 

“I’d never forget you so easily, Pit!” she groused at the pool.  She knew that the pain and weakness was getting to him.  She wanted to hold him, to kiss his forehead.  She did not want to raise up one of the centurions or to create another specialty angel.  The Lady Palutena wanted Pit back – that was it, just him. 

 

And hope was diminishing for the both of them of his return.  Reaper-shadows were drawing close to the one-winged boy. 

 

The morning dawned with everything came to a head.  The fighters were dwindling.  Link Outsetter fought Bowser to keep Pit from being roasted alive.  A pack of monster wolves came for the elder Link - the one that looked like he’d had a plan whose plan had fallen through.  Palutena winced as Pit dealt the man a mercy-kill.  D’Ordon may have taken his wing, but she knew that Pit did not like killing a human – or a Hylian, as the case went.  He’d only done it because the beasts were tearing the young once-hero apart and it was the better thing to do. 

 

Pit fell.  Link Outsetter held him.  Palutena concentrated with all her might to subvert the power of her chains.  She found her spirit briefly looking over Pit’s.  She told him that it was alright, that it was his time to fly now.  She could sense his soul coming toward her and opened her arms to receive him…

 

… And then nothing. 

 

Palutena was snapped back into the confines of her temple.  She whipped her head around. “Pit! Pit!” she cried.  Her steps echoed in the inner chamber.  The dark chains rattled.  “No! No! No! Pit!” she yelped. 

 

Where was he?  She was just about to grasp his soul! 

 

His body was where she’d left it.  Link Outsetter was resting it gently upon their scouting-rock.  He took the laurel-crown from his head and ran off into the woods to avoid the cleaners.   

 

The goddess was stretching her chains and concentrating all of her will upon Pit when a small group of her men interrupted her. 

 

“My goddess,” said one of them, “The messengers from the city have given us a portal to go and retrieve the captain.”

 

“Go forth at once,” Palutena ordered. 

 

“Our poor captain!” several of the centurions cried, all at the same time. 

 

“And…” she said before the small portion of her guard carried out orders, “If it is possible, please tell Link Outsetter that he may keep Pit’s crown and that my blessing is upon him.” 

 

“Yes, my Lady.” 

 

“Thank you, Claudius.’ 

 

Lady Palutena paced, wept, and bit her knuckles.  Just where was Pit?  If he was fading away, she would have felt it.  She had worried that it might happen, given their separation, but if so, she would have felt a specific kind of hollowness in her heart. He might have been plucked by a Reaper and taken to the Underworld.  That was what she was worried about.  She was sure that he was beyond resurrection, but there was still a small sliver of hope.  If he returned to her, there was at least the hope of her guiding him into a favorable reincarnation. 

 

Was he trapped there, in that other world?  Would he begin to fade? 

 

It was not long (a day, perhaps? She had lost track of the time) when a squadron of centurions entered her temple carrying a polished wooden casket.  A golden laurel-wreath was etched upon its lid.  Shaking, Palutena ordered it opened. 

 

“Pit…”

 

It had been difficult to see from afar, but now that his body was in her presence, she could see how sick he’d been.  He was pale - more so than the standard pallor of death.  His face was gaunt but he was smiling, gently and sweetly.  His right wing was tucked up around him and his left one was still gone.  He was dressed in green and orange with live, green laurels on his head.   There apparently hadn’t been anything embalming-wise done to him – perhaps as a small measure of respect Smash City had for the people of different worlds to do their own ceremonies for the slain, such as the cremation typical of their world.  She stroked his cold cheek.

 

“Lady Palutena?” 

 

A shock went right through her like electricity up and down her spine.  The goddess turned around.  

 

Standing in her throne room was a somewhat greenish and translucent Pit.  He was not wearing his crown, but he had both of his wings in spectral form. 

 

“Pit!” 

 

Palutena glided toward him, her toes on point, her feet not even touching the floor.  She embraced the ghost and felt him go right through her.  She backed off for a moment.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the centurions grieving over the casket.  Apparently, they did not see their captain. 

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Pit said, brightly as well as apologetic.  The boy rubbed the back of his glassy neck.  The Goddess Palutena knew that this form of his soul was for her benefit, that spirit was made of stranger stuff and that he shouldn’t have even had a “neck” to rub.  She decided that seeing him like this was better than seeing him as an orb of light or trying to talk to a draft of wind. 

 

Of course, he did also have a halo. 

 

“I stayed with Link for a while – Outsetter.  He couldn’t see me or sense me or anything, but I still felt like it was important to be by his side, you know?”

 

“I know, Pit,” Palutena said indulgently.  “I’m sure he felt you in ways he does not know.”

 

Pit made a face.  “Lady Palutena!”

 

“Have you been talking too much to that Toki fellow?  You know I don’t mean for you to have naughty thoughts!” 

 

Pit tugged on his halo.  “Can we do something about this, Lady Palutena?”

 

“Ah, yes,” she replied.  “I actually think the halo looks quite handsome on you.  You’re like a proper angel, like in the art that mortals make.” 

 

“I don’t like it!” Pit’s spirit complained. 

 

“It’s seems a fitting replacement for your crown,” Palutena said with a smile.

 

“It’s a symbol of my death!” Pit groused.  “I failed out there! I got finished!  It’s like when I had to fight Orcos.  The minotaur I had to fight in that adventure did this to me a lot!” 

 

Palutena giggled. “Oh, come on!” she said.  “Listen to you carry on! I’d always bring you back!  Of course, you’d look up to me so reverently.  You were so cute in your 8-bit days!” 

 

“I can’t protect you like this…” 

 

“Very well. We do have your body.  Would you like to take a look?” 

 

Pit’s disembodied soul gulped.  “O-okay, Lady Palutena.” 

 

He followed her to where the casket rested.  He recoiled and made a face. “I look terrible!” he exclaimed.  “I mean… the fresh toga is nice, but… I was really that sick?”

 

“I’m afraid so.” 

 

“At least I don’t feel it anymore.”

 

“Try getting back in.” Palutena suggested.

 

“Um… I can try… I guess,” Pit said.  “You’ll get me my wing back somehow, right?”

 

“I just want to see if you can be rejoined to your body,” the goddess said with a nod. 

 

Pit pressed his spectral hand to one of his hands of flesh.  “Ack! It’s like cold meat!” he yelped.  “And, it’s not doing anything! I can’t get back in!”

 

He stepped back from the coffin and desperately danced around trying to pull the halo away from his head. 

 

“Pit, calm yourself,” his goddess ordered. 

 

“Why did you order me to do that if you knew I couldn’t get back in?”

 

“We had to try,” Palutena sighed.  “It was worth a shot, don’t you think?”

 

“No! I’m going to have nightmares! Well, if ghosts can have those… Either way, Lady Palutena, I’m haunting you!” 

 

She laughed.  “Oh, I wouldn’t want it any other way, Pit… but…” the tone of her voice turned to one of concern, “You are technically property of the Underworld now.  You’re not alive and are kind of… no longer mine if I can’t properly bring you back.”

 

“Can’t you make me a new body or something, Lady Palutena?”

 

“I wish it were that simple,” she said, chewing a fingernail. “If you had died in our world by falling into lava or something, I probably could, but the fact that you died in another world… of a mortal sickness… and that your life force was diminished by losing a wing… combined with the fact that you simply can’t re-enter your body when we have it… Oh, Pit!”

 

“Can’t I just haunt you, then?  You can have a haunted temple... you can charge admission and stuff!” 

 

“It’s not that simple,” Palutena said with a shake of her head.  “I think the Reapers will come for you if you linger too long here.  I do think I have an idea for how we might save you. Also… all of the worlds involved with Smash City and their games.”

 

“What? Really? How?” 

 

“Come by the scrying pool with me.” 

 

Pit watched as Palutena caused the pool to focus on Outsetter and upon Toki.  “I think that something special is going to happen,” she explained.  “If I focus in, I can get a sense of plans.  I had a stark dream a while back… I should have paid more attention to it, but I could not decipher it.”

 

“Your dreams are important, Lady Palutena.”

 

“Yes, they are. I think I know what that dream means now.  It means that Toki is going to stand up to Ganondorf.”

 

“What about Tiny?”

 

“Him, too.  Aw, look, he’s putting your crown on. Anyway… Toki is going to need all of the support that he can get, even if it’s just moral support to keep his spirits up.”

 

“Okay,” Pit said decisively, “What do I do?”

 

“Go to as many corners of the world and as many worlds as possible and gather any stray souls you see whom you can sense were a part of the Brawls of Honor.  Bring them into Toki’s dreams.”

 

“Huh? How? Doesn’t that sound a little far-fetched?”

 

“I know you can do it.  Remind him of what has been lost.  Show him what is at stake.  It will boost his fighting-spirit, believe me.” 

 

“Why can’t I appear in one of Little Link’s dreams?  He… he was my friend.”

 

“He was a beautiful friend to you, but he needs something different.” Palutena smiled sweetly at Pit.  “If we play this right, it will be as if none of the Brawls never happened.  You’ll have your body back, wings and all.”

 

“Without the stupid halo?”

 

“No halo.” 

 

So, an angel’s spirit took upon a journey to get rid of his new “crown” while a young hero wore a crown he’d never wanted to try to honor him.    

 


	5. Cannibal Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People throughout the nation of Ninten watched in horror as Kirby ate his way to victory. That Brawl of Honor became known as the Cannibal Games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not, as yet, played any “Kirby” game. From what I’ve read both in Super Smash Bros. fanworks and in research, it seems that a dark alternate interpretation of him is fairly common, similar to the psycho-Villager meme. Still, I consider what I am doing here to fall very much under creative liberties. For the record, before anyone asks: No, I have not watched “There Will Be Brawl.” I know of it / have read about it and am aware of the basic plot, but have deliberately avoided actually viewing/following it for fear that, as a darkfic writer, that I might be subconsciously influenced by it too much. So, if this winds up in any way similar or similar to another “Wow, someone made Kirby really dark!” work, I apologize ahead of time for the coincidence. 
> 
> Also, since the “National Anthem” series has gone on a long time and Nintendo’s worlds have so many characters, I have found myself occasionally misremembering my own fic-canon and needing to make edits. If you catch anything that I miss or fudge on (a fighter appearing that’s supposed to be dead in this timeline, or a redundant fighter mentioned elsewhere in the stories ), don’t hesitate to let me know. The review-box exists for a reason. I don’t bite – unless you’re made of French fries or something.

**Come Morning Light**

**Story 5: Cannibal Games**

The third Brawl of Honor was known in its days as the Children’s Brawl, for most of the chosen fighters were pre-teens and young teenagers.  However, because of the actions of the fighter who would become the victor, the contest became known by a much crueler title: 

 

The Cannibal Games. 

 

By the time it came around, Toki – the once Hero of Time and the first Brawl victor had been well-broken after his failed rebellion and started consuming things he was still underage for in disturbing amounts.  “Super” Mario, the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom, had survived his fight.  The latter played mentor to a little Toad-girl named Bella.  The former to a pair of teenage Rito boys named Sket and Akoot.  Of the worlds where fighters were chosen without existing Champions, there was a little blond boy with interesting powers of the mind, a Pokemon trainer that was a girl around twelve with her three juvenile Pokemon of balanced elements, a pair of young mountain-climbers who worked in-tandem and one grown swordswoman. 

 

The most remarkable of the fighters was a childlike creature of indeterminate age, a small pink puffball from a land of dreams.  Link “Toki” Kokirin and Mario Mario knew him well, as did many of the viewers at home.  In the innocent Smash Games of the old days, Kirby had become a legend in his own right.  He was hailed as the “Super-Tough Pink Puff” for his chubby, round appearance combined with his combat-prowess.  One of his specialty-moves in the Smash Tournaments of old was to suck other fighters into his mouth whole, then spit them out after having “digested” some of their key attributes, after which, he could fight them on their terms.  In other words, if he temporarily “ate” a swordsman, he’d magically brandish a sword.  If he ate someone with fire-powers, he’d gain those fire-powers and maybe their nice hat to go with it.  Such powers would fade away after so much use, but this kind of “gourmet copying” was a most unique power to have. 

 

All who knew Kirby from previous tournaments were in awe of his legendary appetite.  Many of the Smash Tournament fighters were big eaters.  Mario loaded up on carbohydrates before matches to fuel his flames.  Young Link started out as almost the opposite but became a legendary eater in time.  When he’d first arrived, though he was a growing boy, his last great quest had left him accustomed to going days at a time on nothing but a jar of milk or an apple found on the ground.  He’d go without sleep, too – sometimes he simply forgot to either eat or sleep until the day he passed out during a match.  Link made sure he remembered to eat and sleep before fight-days after that. 

 

Kirby took entire table-loads of food into his maw in a matter of seconds.  He also knew how to cook for others and had become one of the Smash facility’s cooks by the time the Melee’ tourney rolled around.  He worked alongside Princess Peach with a giant cauldron from which he produced some of the hottest curries – weapons-grade for the matches – as well as many other kinds of food.  The little sphere had been a fine chef back then, but the memory of it after the “Cannibal Games” caused the Hero of Time to ever-after to go pale when he thought of it.

 

Toki sat at a table at _Geno’s_ in Smash City – back when he still felt welcomed dining and drinking there - with Mario during the first evening of that Brawl.  Geno didn’t ask questions concerning the half-grown Link’s request for wine.  Toki was the first Brawl-Champion and everyone in the city knew what he’d been through.  He and Mario were awkwardly sharing breadsticks and dipping sauce when the chubby pink blob took down his first victim. 

 

There had been no death all morning, although Sket had taken a fall and twisted an ankle.  The Arena this time was a basic wooded area, but the beady, bright eyes on some of the rocks and in the clouds told all the viewers that it was someplace in the Mushroom Kingdom.  Mario, however, could not place exactly where.  There were places that even he had not explored in his own world.  His eyes and Toki’s were fixed on the screen mounted to the restaurant wall as the camera followed Kirby.

 

Kirby caught the swordswoman off-guard.  They found each other in the forest and it was clear that she did not want to hurt him, at least not until she got a good look at him.  She scrutinized him as he waddled close to her, making small, innocent-sounding noises.  It was when she slightly raised her sword, deciding whether or not to strike, that Kirby opened his big mouth and sucked her in with a vacuum-swirl of wind. 

 

Link and Mario craned their necks to get a better view. 

 

The same happened with Luigi, watching from a less-wilderness part of the Mushroom Kingdom.

 

Pikachu sat up on the couch next to Red in Pallet Town. 

 

A swordsman in blue watched from a magic-portal screen, fixated and worried.  

 

Villagers in a pumpkin field in a backwater of old Hyrule stared in confusion and scratched their heads.  The royal families of the land and other lands tied to Hyrule likewise did not know what to make of what they were witnessing. 

 

In hindsight, a grandmother in New Hyrule was glad that she had sent her grandchildren to bed early.  People were required to have the magical viewing portals on during certain times of the day, but how much they actually watched was up to them and how many loopholes they could find in the law.  The old woman spent her attention sewing clothing for her youngsters.  However, she did look up from her work to see what happened next. 

 

“I wonder what this is going to be like… copying her….” Toki said.  He anticipated an impressive swordfight, something that he was an expert in. 

 

Instead, Kirby remained inflated with his cargo inside him.  He did not spit the woman out in short-order.  Moments lingered on.  Ghostly pieces of wardrobe appeared upon him like he was doing a power-copy, but they did not take to his body and faded away instead of becoming solid.  His distended pink body visibly undulated and moved as if what he’d just swallowed was fighting him desperately.  The woman’s hand stuck out of his mouth.  It went limp after about two minutes and dropped the sword it carried upon the ground before it was sucked smoothly in.  The kicks and bulges slowed down.  Kirby’s balloon-body went still.  He deflated down and vomited a sticky pile of jewelry, armor and a few small, glistening stripped bones. 

 

The swordswoman could not change her fate.

 

Link dropped the breadstick he was holding onto the floor as he stared like a deer caught in a hunter’s trap. 

 

“Kirby…buddy?”  Mario gasped in disbelief. 

 

Mario’s brother back at their home lost his lunch completely. 

 

The people of Ordon Village went home and locked their doors.  They did not care about the law or about Ganondorf’s enforcers.  They were not going to watch any more of this. 

 

The little island grandmother started sewing a section of cloth so furiously she ended she ended up sewing a pair of little boy’s pants onto her dress. 

 

Red stroked Pikachu.  Pikachu seemed to be unfazed.  After all, some Pokemon survived by such tactics in the wild.  This wasn’t much more than a hungry Gulpin might do.

 

 

 

 

A betting-pool was run in Smash City.  Toki, to his latter shame, participated in it – He did this to show his support for every fighter _except_ for Kirby. 

 

The young Champion placed the highest wagers upon his two fighters, naturally.  His secondary bet was placed upon the brother and sister pair known as the “Ice Climbers.”  They fell under a special rule that President Ganondorf had created for this Brawl.  Since they worked in tandem the rule was that if they both survived to the end, they both could go home together.  Toki was quite bitter that the old warlock had not extended the same courtesy to Sket and Akoot. 

 

“I don’t a’ agree with you a’ doing this, Toki,” Mario berated Link in the hall of the Smash City Hotel where their rooms were located. 

 

“Oh, so Mr. Blood-Stained Death-Boots has suddenly become a moral paragon,” Link shot back. 

 

“It’s a’ hard enough that the people of our worlds are losing their lives.  Should you be a’ makin’ money off it?” 

 

“If it shows my support for my men,” Link said, “and against the gruesome gourmand.” 

 

Mario sighed.  “This mess of a world has all of us a’ fallen.” 

 

“No one gets out of life alive,” Toki said coldly.  We all have to hedge our bets.”

 

 

 

 

The Brawl wore on.  Ordon Village in the south of Old Hyrule experienced a minor uprising.  Darknut soldiers were deployed to make its non-viewing audience compliant.  The local blacksmith’s son, a boy named Colin, took one of his father’s swords and stabbed one of them in the back – a noted weak-point on a Darknut.  The monster was un-damaged enough to knock the child to the ground with the flat side of its own massive sword.  Just as it was about to kill the boy for “treason,” the local incarnation of the Hero finished what his young friend had started. 

 

Of course, he found himself swiftly surrounded, beaten senseless and put in chains.  He stayed in cuffs for the rest of the Brawl.  Even a legendary Hero had trouble fighting five giant Darknuts at once without potions or fairies at his disposal.  He’d felt his heart stop down to a quarter-beat. 

 

Ultimately, he was compliant for the sake of his village.  If he played meek, Colin would live – and so it was.  

 

Fortunately for Old Hyrule, their fighter was not taken by Kirby.  Lingoro the Goron (an up and coming young Sumo wrestler) rolled down a ridge and off an unforeseen cliff straight into a lake.  Link of Ordon spread a whisper through his village that “Gorons can breathe underwater.”  This was why Mayor Bo was likewise unperturbed when their piece in the game “died.”  There was a chance that he was not dead and could escape by walking along the bottom of the lake.  They hoped they’d see him again someday. 

 

Other fighters were not so lucky.  Toki watched in horror from the hotel large viewing screen in the central reception room as poor, hobbling Sket became a chicken-dinner for Kirby.  Toki openly wondered to Mario how Kirby could so easily and quickly digest feathers.  He kept talking about that and Mario was disturbed.  The plumber took one look into his friend’s eyes and decided that “going cold” was the way he had of coping with the situation.  He’d talk of his old wounds, issues with time travel and an especially bright full moon on a clear night with a similar coldness. 

 

A dinner of mushrooms was next – that is, Mario’s poor charge. 

 

Akoot was killed by one of the Pokemon – one that had abandoned its trainer. The young fox-like creature used an ember-laden breath attack to burn the poor Rito.  The fox fled before Kirby came to clean up the remains.  Kirby had beaten the R.O.B. units to it.

 

By the time one of the Ice Climbers fell from a cliff – the most unexpected of the deaths, most of the nation of Ninten had stopped watching the Brawl.  Ganondorf’s monsters and troops had to quell many small protests.  They remained small and were quickly extinguished only because of the well-remembered failure of Toki’s revolution.  Rumors spread that one of the more troublesome worlds was sent into oblivion by Ganondorf’s hand.

 

One of Ganondorf’s programmers attempted to engineer a landside to kill Kirby and to have done with his going too far.  He floated. It missed. 

 

A pair of fighters attempted to set a trap for the pink hunger-pit.  The little blond boy got together with the young lady Pokemon Trainer and they gathered poison mushrooms, as many as they could find.  The Pokemon Trainer learned tragically that the poison mushrooms did not work the way they had in the previous Smash tournaments and were, in fact, poison.  Her Froakie had eaten one out of curiosity and died twitching.  The two youths set the mushrooms together in conspicuous place, hoping that Kirby wouldn’t be able to help himself and would eat them and also die twitching. 

 

Kirby did toddle along to their trap.  Toki crossed his fingers.  Mario balled up his hat.  Luigi got his bucket ready.  The grandmother in New Hyrule concentrated on her bubbling soup-pot. Pikachu slept on the end of the couch.  

 

“Come on, you bastard!” a certain wolfish Hero of Old Hyrule was heard to say as he was surrounded by friends who held the same sentiment. 

 

“Poyo?” the pink creature said as it partook of one of the mushrooms in the feast laid out for him in the forest.  He quickly spit it out.  He puffed himself up and floated away. 

 

Sometime later, he did look a little ill, but failed to succumb.  He found the surviving twin of the Ice Climbers duo.  The boy tried to defend himself with a massive hammer, but got sucked into Kirby’s hellmouth.  The child’s parka served as too fine a shield for him, or perhaps it was Kirby’s slight illness, but Kirby spat him out prematurely.  However, what he’d vomited up of the boy, though still alive, was in no condition to survive. 

 

Toki went back to his old ways of going without food for a long period.  He fainted in the hotel hall a day before the end of the Brawl.  Mario forced him to eat. 

 

In the end, they were made to clap for the victor at the closing ceremony.  They wished they didn’t have to clap. 

 

The next year, when they had to welcome Kirby as a fellow Champion to mentor someone from his world to fight, they gave him a cold shoulder.  He was allowed the entirety of the buffet table until he had his fill. 

 

He was never allowed in any of the Smash facilities’ kitchens again.    


End file.
